


Accidental Summoning

by Thestarlitrose



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Accidental Demon Summoning, Crowley loved Warlock, Fluff, He's proud of his son, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-07 21:31:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20982686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thestarlitrose/pseuds/Thestarlitrose
Summary: A tired and hungry Warlock Dowling accidently summons his old childhood Nanny by way of a bologna sandwich.





	Accidental Summoning

He was exhausted, it was fall but the heat was still present at his university making the already long days seem longer.

He’d been studying for a big exam in one of his history courses nearly the entire day and couldn’t be bothered to eat or drink anything that wasn’t coffee.

He opened the fridge and pulled out mustard, American cheese, and bologna. He was too tired to cook but this would do for the night; not to mention that he didn’t have much else to prepare.

He got out a paper plate and two slices of white bread. Cheese down, then bologna, then, he got an idea. He hadn’t thought of his Nanny in ages. Her snake tattoo had been a source of comfort for him as a child and thinking of it made him smile.

He always thought of her when he was anxious, he’d loved her dearly and had been heartbroken to see her leave.

He shook his bottle of mustard and drew the familiar mark on his sandwich, then circled it once so he’d have mustard on the edges too.

He placed the other piece of bread on top and reached into the fridge for some milk.

He froze when he turned around.

A man was leaning against his counter.

A very well-dressed man.

A very well-dressed man with familiar flaming red hair and sunglasses.

“Nanny?” He stuttered.

He smirked.

“Uhh… Sandwich then?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Chips?”

“Mhm.”

The demon takes a bite, takes the glass of milk from his hand and vanishes.

The next day, he takes his test as usual but when he arrives back to his apartment, the glass is sitting on the counter and his fridge is completely full; albeit, full of foods he liked to eat when he was a kid but full nonetheless. There is also a suspiciously tartan throw now resting on his much nicer sofa with a stack of books sitting on a coffee table that definitely hadn’t been there that morning. 

It’s almost a year later when he sees Nanny again. He’d been cooking lasagna for a date that had stood him up. He has a ton of food and even a dessert he’d hoped to share for  _ later _ .

Warlock is old enough now to drink and opens what he considers a fairly good bottle of wine; granted he mostly drinks two-buck chuck from the local TJs.

He sits down at his worn kitchen table and absentmindedly doodles with his finger as he waits for the timer and sips his wine.

He truly doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until there is a clearing of a throat across from him.

He has the decency to not to scream but does spill a bit of his wine out of the glass when he realizes he’s not alone.

Nanny laughs and pours himself a glass.

“Uh… Hi again. It’s ah, I made lasagna.”

“Sounds good.”

“So… um, how’ve you been?”

“Not bad, living in South Downs now with the Angel. He says Hello by the way.”

“He’s more than welcome to a slice when it comes out of the oven. I er… I’d been expecting company, but they decided to cancel at the last minute. I even have some mousse chilling in the fridge.”

“He’d like that.” As suddenly as he was there, he was gone.

The timer goes off and he takes the steaming dish out of his oven before pulling out an extra plate. There’s a knock at his door and he goes to answer, standing in the hall is Nanny and who is fairly sure is a better-looking Brother Francis.

“Uh, hi again. Come in?”

“Of course, Master Warlock! Thank you so much for inviting us!” Warlock then realizes he has two bottles of very expensive wine in his arms and Nanny is carrying what looks to be some sort of baguette.

After his second glass of wine, tongues are loosened, and they are reminiscing about his frankly odd childhood.

“I can’t believe you both thought I was the Antichrist!” he’s laughing at both the absurdity and the fact it explains  _ so _ much of his strange childhood.

“Honest mistake! Was the nun's fault anyway,” he mumbles.

“Yes, my dear but it worked out all right in the end. One day you simply must meet Adam, he’s a charming young fellow.”

“Meet the Antichrist, that might not be too bad.” He says, he’s on his fourth glass and is so sleepy he can hardly keep upright in his spot on the couch. “I never said thank you, for the uh, couch and stuff.”

“It was a good sandwich and you really needed an upgrade. That old couch was evil, it was sent back to hell where it belonged.”

“It wasn’t that bad.” He pouted.

Crowley replied with a pointed look.

He fell asleep at some point in the night, likely finally reaching his alcohol limited and passing out.

When he wakes up the next morning, it is blissfully without a hangover. He muddles into his kitchen to make a pot of coffee when he stops, dead in his tracks.

His kitchen table is new, as is his fridge and stove. There is a shiny new instant pot sitting on the counter and the pot of coffee is already made.

He pours himself a cup and opens his fridge to find it has once again been filled, this time with his weight in cheese, wine, and sweets. He laughs, shakes his head and grabs the creamer from the door.

On the oak table is a note:

_ Enjoyed last night,  _

_ We should do it again sometime.  _

_ Crowley and Aziraphale _

_ PS: Aziraphale says to make  _

_ your mother’s delightful fish  _

_ stew the next time.  _

And so, begins a tradition, Warlock cooks or sometimes he just buys pizza and either Nanny comes for a visit or both. Other times, especially the days where he is stressed beyond belief, Nanny will show up and take him to dinner or Aziraphale will stop by with a venti white mocha extra whip just for him.

It’s weird having them back in his life but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

When he decides to go to grad school two years after graduating from his undergraduate program, he picks a school in England. It’s more his home than this is, and he’d be closer to the bookshop Aziraphale owns but he’s yet to be able to visit.

He miraculously finds a flat that is in his price range near the shops and takes to working there part-time, if one can even call it that.

He never sells a single book; a feat Aziraphale is most proud of. 

When he graduates with his graduate degree in library science and history, Aziraphale and Crowley both attend the ceremony, clapping proudly as he walks across the stage when his own parents don’t attend.

They take him to the Ritz for dinner in celebration and when they toast, he can’t help but thank that bologna sandwich and sleep deprivation for giving him back the family he’d so desperately missed.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, check out a few of my other works! 
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr:  AziraphalesRareBooks 
> 
> I take Prompt requests!


End file.
